Take Me Back to the Start
by PrettyMessedUpSituation
Summary: After the Mark fulfills its prophecy, Dean asks Cas to help him come up with a way to fix it - hoping for a second chance to give his brother the life he deserved.


The burning on his arm from the Mark was subsiding, but even if it had continued to consume him and his entire body were charred to ash, he wouldn't have felt a thing; in all honesty it would have been much more preferable to this. His gut wrenched, twisting in a way that made him think he might start heaving, but the hopelessness weighing on his chest was so strong that it held even that sick feeling down. Fire crackled behind him. A board hit another board as flames climbed the ladder leading to the loft of the barn, igniting the hay stowed there. He couldn't move, finding it impossible to breathe normally let alone stand. He had collapsed onto his knees and back on his heels. Now he was practically sitting on the ground, his arms hanging lifelessly by his sides.

"Dean!" Cas yelled, his voice hoarse. Keeping his distance, he'd been trying to call to Dean without response. He watched as Dean's eyes finally focused, registering his presence. "Dean, we have to get out of here."

Everything hit him at once. The sound of fire catching, the heat, the taste and smell of blood, the heaviness in his chest – his senses were overwhelmed. His grip on the Blade loosened, letting it fall to the ground. He didn't care about anything anymore. Emptiness flowed into him and filled his veins as he looked to Sam's body, canted over in the position to which he had fallen at his brother's hand.

It wasn't supposed to have been this way.

"Y-you. It was supposed… _you_ ," Dean muttered.

Cas knelt in front of him. "I know, Dean. You were coming for me. You didn't mean to. He…he tried to save me. Dean. _Dean!_ "

"This wasn't supposed to happen," he said, his breaths sucking in harder, his voice rising to panic. "I wasn't going to let it. I wasn't going to let it happen, Cas. This couldn't happen." He started yelling, his voice barreling out of him. "I make the choices! I defy fate and destiny and bullshit prophecy that doesn't take into account that I make my own choices!"

He let out a guttural roar that startled Cas who was trying to hold back tears of his own. Dean's body started shaking, his breaths becoming faster and more and more shallow as he stared at Cas until he was hyperventilating, the shock hitting him again.

Cas grabbed Dean's wrists, his fingers ringed around them as he held them tight, looking into Dean's eyes trying to command his attention. "Dean look at me. Look at me!" he shouted. "We need to move. We need to get out of here. _Now!_ "

"No. No, Cas." He looked down at Sam and squeezed his eyes shut, tears rolling down his face. The anger had been exhausted and replaced with hopeless sorrow. "Help me, Cas. Help me fix it. I have to fix it."

Embers from the fire in the loft started dropping behind Dean, coming down on him like a light falling snow. The tears Cas had always kept at bay started to come now, running down his face as he looked at Dean. There was no murderer sitting before him – no hardened hunter, no monster. There was a broken man, scared and desperate. Dean's skin glistened from a coat of sweat, tears, and blood, reflecting the light from the lantern that was hanging over Sam. The glow was creating a circle around the brothers. If it wasn't all so terrible, Cas would have thought it beautiful. This is how he had pictured the Winchesters going out – bloody and with a fight; he just didn't want to believe the details. Dean exploded in a sob, breaking Cas's frozen trance.

"Cas, _please?_ " he begged, sounding like a child.

Cas was heartbroken. He had no answers, no way to fix this. He wasn't strong enough to bring Sam back. He had enough grace for one small miracle, but nothing as grand as bringing back Sam.

"Send me back." Dean's voice cracked as he spoke, the words gushing out of him. "Send me back. Send me back so we can just start over. Let me make all of this right. I have to fix it. I have to…."

He trailed off when his eyes drifted from Cas to Sam. He lifted his arm as if he could reach out to his brother and Sam could reach back then let it fall as he realized the futility of the gesture. His chin quivered and he began to weep, his shoulders lurching forward toward Cas, letting the angel keep him steady.

"I can't do this anymore," Dean whispered.

Cas took him by the shoulders and leaned him back. "What are you talking about, Dean?"

"This. I'm done. If you can't send me back..."

Dean glanced at the Blade with such a longing that Cas felt his chest seize up. Embers were floating around them like fireflies. The beams of the roof started to creak as the flames scorched the wood.

"Dean, we have to get out of here," Cas pleaded, hefting Dean up and half-dragging him out of the barn.

He let go of Dean once they were a good distance from the barn, letting him rest in the lush spring grass of the field. He went back into the barn and grabbed the Blade, tucking it into the back of his waistband. He picked Sam up with a bit of effort, carrying him out to lay his body in the grass with his brother. In that time, Dean had started to calm, his panic and desperation waning. The barn burned slowly, wet from the previous week's rain. He knelt in front of Dean again, watching the reflection of the burning barn in Dean's glassy eyes.

"What do you mean send you back?"

Dean's lips trembled as they formed into an almost-smile. "Remember…remember when Sam and I were trying to escape Zachariah in heaven?"

"Yes. I remember."

"There was this one heaven – it wasn't mine, it was his – and it was the worst day of my life. I was so…." He paused, letting tears fall as he let out a small laugh, wiping his face with his hand. "I was so mad at him." He shook his head before continuing. "It was the night he left for Stanford. He was pissed at Dad, Dad told him to never come back. He left me, and I was angry. But he wasn't supposed to do this, and I dragged him back in."

Memories danced across Dean's face. A few tears followed the already made paths down his cheeks, his chin quivering again before he bowed his head and wiped his face with the back of his hand.

"If you could do one last thing for me – for Sam – would you do it?" he asked Cas.

"Dean, you know I'd do anything for the two of you." Cas's voice was heavy with hurt that Dean would even ask such a thing. "But what do you mean by send you back?"

Dean's eyes left the barn and finally really looked at Cas, who less than an hour before he was trying to kill. "I know that you're sucking when it comes to your angel juice. You can't bring him back, but maybe we can hit a 'reload at an earlier saved point' and let me fix this – fix everything. I know it's asking a lot, and that it might kill you. Hell, it might kill me. But it might let him have another chance…."

"I'm not sure if that's even possible."

The last thing Cas wanted to do was disappoint Dean, especially now. The creaking of boards and cracking of beams preluded the barn's collapse in the background. After everything settled, he touched Dean's shoulder, drawing his gaze from Sam lying beside him. Cas needed to give him something.

"I have an idea."

It was a longshot, but there was a spell.

They'd given Sam a hunter's funeral right there at the barn, and Cas was surprised when Dean didn't pick up a bottle of whiskey the second they walked through the door of the bunker. He had never seen him this focused, but then again his brother was involved and he had a plan – a mission.

Cas busied himself concocting a disgusting looking liquid, his face paling and insides turning as the minutes passed. He suddenly felt so very attached to his being, to this life. Would he miss the bunker and this knowledge of humanity he finally had? No. He wouldn't remember – this version of him would simply cease to exist. He'd be a full-fledged member of the heavenly host again and ignorant of what it felt like to rebel, to fall. The dark, honey-thick elixir was finished, but he didn't call out to Dean right away. He didn't want him to know how he felt. He didn't want to go.

"Where do you want to do this?" Dean said when he came into the kitchen.

"I don't think it matters," Cas said. The Impala would be a nice gesture. Dean's room would be comfortable. In the end it didn't make any difference. "Here's fine."

Cas handed the tumbler to Dean and let his hand linger a little longer than necessary before he reluctantly let it go. The two sat at the table, Cas taking the chair closest to Dean. Dean lifted the glass and inspected the contents with a sour face. He raised it to Cas in a way of cheers and downed it, gagging a bit as he swallowed it down. Dean nodded his head and rapped his fingers on the table, not knowing what to say after all these years.

"What happens now?" he croaked out.

Cas smiled and his eyes glassed over. "You'll fall asleep. I'll say some words, touch your forehead, and use the rest of my grace to send your present consciousness to past you. You'll know everything you know now. You'll have to live a lot of things over again, but if I know anything about you Dean Winchester, you'll stop a lot of bad things from happening as well."

Dean blinked back tears. "What about you?"

"Pray to me, Dean. It might take a while for me to answer, but if you have faith in me as I have in you, I know you'll eventually get me to listen."

Dean started getting dozy. His stomach churned from the elixir and he felt lightheaded. He crossed his arms on the table and put his head down, looking at Cas. "I always have faith in you."

Cas gave a half-grin. "Ready?"

"No."

Cas laughed nervously. "Me neither."

He started drifting. His heartbeat slowed and breaths drew deeper. "I'll miss you, Cas."

"You'll find me again. Go make things right."

In this moment, Cas was losing everything he had. He watched as Dean's eyes closed, remembering all the times those eyes looked at him for help or in anger, in relief or happiness. Cas smiled and nodded, face streamed with tears. Placing his hands on Dean's head, he said the words to the spell, using every ounce of grace he had left. He had to get this right. For Dean. For Sam. For his family.

* * *

Dean opened his eyes and he was standing in front of a house in the middle of the night. Cas was gone. The bunker was gone. His dad and Sam were yelling.

" _If you walk out on me and your brother, don't ever show your face around us again!_ " John's voice boomed.

" _Fine! I'm gone. You won't have to worry about me ever again!_ " Sam tried to boom back, his voice much smaller and younger.

Dean's chest swelled up. It worked. Cas pulled it off. He looked down at himself, checking his arm – no Mark. The amulet Sam gave him was hanging from his neck. He took it in his hand and squeezed it. He was going to make it better.

After Sam left, Dean dropped his dad off at Bobby's and went out to find Daniel Elkins and the Colt. He summoned Azazel, and used only one bullet to take him out. He wrote down everything he remembered from cases, filling up one journal and starting another, spending a year retracing the trail of jobs he remembered, this time able to stop things before they got too high up in body count. He saved lives, but mostly he missed Sam. That wasn't what mattered though; Sam was going to school and was happy. He was out.

Once every couple of weeks Dean would call to check up on Sam, trying not to sound too sentimental or pushy. At Thanksgiving he drove to Stanford and had dinner with his brother and asked him if he'd maybe like to go on a few hunts with him just for old time's sake and to keep him company. Trying to lure him in, he told him about the Wendigo he took out with the help of some campers. Sam passed on the offer until spring break, traveling to upstate New York with his brother where he met this girl Sarah and hit it off. Dean couldn't help but smile when Sam asked him to drive him up to visit with her over the summer.

Every time he drove through Indiana, Dean thought about checking up on Lisa and Ben. He desperately wanted to somehow slip back into a life he had never lived. Instead, he made a quick stop and took care of the changeling situation before Lisa or her friends knew anything was off. The domestic life wasn't something he had completely marked off the list, but it wasn't something he was ready for and he didn't know if he ever would. After all, this hadn't been about him.

Making a trip up to Lebanon, Dean went to have a chat with Larry Ganem knowing he'd need to have a good rapport with the man if the key to the bunker ever turned up. He kept close with Sam who was living a happy life, annoyed the piss out of Bobby, and took care of Ellen and Jo.

More than anything though, he prayed to Cas.

With the gates of hell never opened and Lucifer never let out of the cage, Dean wasn't holding his breath for a civil war in heaven that would bring Cas back, but he still prayed. He began talking to _Castiel_ stiffly at first, then explaining his story – their story – over time, he finally just started talking to him like _Cas_. And when somebody at the Roadhouse brought up some religious zealot in Pontiac, Illinois talking some Touched by an Angel craziness, Dean dropped everything and started driving.

Amelia and Claire didn't know where Jimmy had gone, but Amelia stepped outside to tell Dean about how strange he'd been acting, how she'd tried to get him to seek help. He'd walked out the night before. Dean said he'd do his best to find him, and thanked her for her time before he left.

He drove to the barn, the one he'd met Cas in all those years ago after he had pulled him from hell, the same one he dragged Dean from when the Mark had fulfilled its prophecy, and found the angel standing there leaning against a table.

"Same barn?" Dean asked.

"It felt appropriate."

Dean's nose and eyes burned, holding back tears. "You can't take Jimmy from his family, Cas."

Castiel held up his hand. "Of course not. I just wanted to – ." He faltered in his speech, unable to find the right words. "The picture you painted in your prayers was an interesting one. Quite the adventures. I admit, you intrigue me, Dean Winchester."

"You came down here and took a vessel because you were curious?"

"Perhaps," he answered. His head tilted quizzically. "Did I really do all those things?"

"And then some." Dean crossed his arms and kicked at the dirt.

"Did I enjoy being human?"

Dean smiled. "I think you did. It certainly changed your outlook on things."

"Hm."

The subsequent silence was deafening. As much as Dean wanted this to be Cas, it wasn't. It was Castiel speaking through Jimmy Novak.

He'd never take back what he did even if he could, but Dean couldn't help but suffer some pretty severe heartache thinking about the way Cas's face looked that night in the bunker – his utter sadness, the tears that welled up in his eyes as he made this sacrifice for Sam on the off chance Dean would be able to pull it off. He hoped his Cas would be proud.

He left the barn that day and drove straight to Sam, pulling out some beers for the two of them to share while they reclined on the hood of the Impala, staring at the stars.

"You happy, Sammy?" Dean asked.

"Yeah. Yeah I am. Things have kind of turned out better than I could have hoped, you know?" Sam said with a smile. "You?"

"Never better."

Dean took a sip of his beer, focusing his attention on the cold bottle pressed to his lips, glad Sam couldn't see the emotion on his face in the dark. He looked up and watched the Perseids streak across the sky, making a wish on every meteor as if it was a falling star. He selfishly wished to merge his two lives so that he had Cas, or somehow could have taken Cas with him in this new life, to have had him by his side as he started over from the beginning.

But then some lives are just haunted from the start.


End file.
